


Laurits and the Worst Week Imaginable (but at least there's free brotherly love)

by Failing_Physics



Series: In the aftermath [1]
Category: Ragnarok (TV 2020)
Genre: Gen, I love my bois and need them to be happy, Laurits is Loki, Post-Season/Series 01, Season 1 Spoilers, bc who doesn't think that at this point, brotherly goals, he needs one, more characters and tags to be added, please get laurits a hug, you wouldn't believe how many times i misspelled magne as mange whilst writing this
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-13
Updated: 2020-09-19
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:27:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23636059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Failing_Physics/pseuds/Failing_Physics
Summary: After the showdown with Vidar, it's Laurits that finds Magne outside the warehouse and has to deal with the realization that Magne might not be the only one with godly powers(I decided to make this into a post season 1 series with updated every month or two because I'm terrible at updating and have no inspiration)
Relationships: Magne Seier & Laurits Seier - Relationship
Series: In the aftermath [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1756102
Comments: 25
Kudos: 150





	1. Part One

**Author's Note:**

> There's a criminal lack of fanfics for this fandom so I thought I'd help out. Idk if I'm gonna write more but I left it open ended in case any of you guys want me to continue  
> So yeah, enjoy

Oh.

Oh _shit._

Laurits stopped dead at the sight before him, something horribly cold worming its way under his skin. 

Magne - laying on the ground, so still and lifeless, even the rain pounding the concrete not enough to conceal the overpowering stench of ozone leaking from the scene before him like blood. And right there opposite him, lay Vidar Jutul, looking very, very dead. It was a monumental effort to will life back into his limbs and then rush forward on legs that still felt like lead.

_What in the ever-living fuck had Magne done?_

Gry had been barely holding it together when she’d found him walking home after his speech, still relishing the memory of Ran Jutul’s face as he’d stood on the podium. She’d pulled up beside him in Fjor’s car and then practically fallen out of it, stammering something about Magne and Vidar in a warehouse - some ridiculous story about his brother fighting none other than the most powerful man in Edda - and Laurits had almost laughed at the joke. 

Until he’d noticed Fjor in the backseat of the car, face shockingly white and clearly barely holding onto consciousness. And then how badly Gry was shaking as she pushed him towards the warehouse. And it was at exactly that moment when there was a terrifyingly loud crash as a white sliver of lightning cleaved the air in two. After that, Laurits couldn’t question why Gry was fleeing with a half-dead Fjor in the opposite direction to the hospital. 

So he’d run. As fast as he could in this stupid dress and stupid shoes because Magne wasn’t exactly the sharpest tool in the box and if what Gry said was true then… well, at the very least he’d need someone to bail him out. Or at least that’s what Laurits told himself had sparked the all-consuming dread that pounded alongside his heart. And now he was here, at the scene of what he hoped to all hell wasn’t a murder.

“Magne!” He hissed, and reached to shake his brother. An arch of static electricity connected to Laurits’ fingers and he yelped. 

“Wake up!” 

Magne’s shallow breaths continued, hands twitching at his sides very slightly.

“Magne! For the love of god, you are _not allowed to die on me._ ” Laurits lent over him, and hesitated only a fraction of a second before slapping him full across the face. As if he’d received a bolt of electricity, Magne surged upwards, sending Laurits reeling back - but not fast enough to avoid the hand that shot forward and gripped his wrist. Hard.

“You,” Magne was breathing hard, “Loki-”

“No - no - it’s Laurits, Magne!” Laurits tried to pull himself out of Magne’s grip, but it was unyielding, “I’m Laurits - ah, _fuck_ \- let go, that hurts!”

At that something seemed to snap inside of Magne. The burning intensity in his eyes faded as quickly as it had come and he hurriedly released Laurits, something like guilt now etched onto his face. The rain-kissed wind that had been building abruptly dropped as he rocked back onto his ankles, clutching his wrist where several splotchy bruises were already forming. He let out a breath and shook his head at Magne who just stared back.

“Can you stand?”

Magne put a hand on his ribs and winced “No.”

“Right.” Laurits said, wondering what the hell they were going to do now. “Right.” He slowly stood, eyes flickering over his brother. He seemed... alive. Laurits supposed he couldn't ask for much else, considering Magne had just been struck by god damned _lightning._ Laurits dragged his gaze over to Vidar, still motionless on the concrete. “Are you going to tell me what you did, or am I gonna have to guess?”

“If I did, you wouldn’t believe me.”

“Try me.” 

“Vidar showed up and tried to kill me. I stopped him.” Magne said it so matter of factly and with so much conviction that for a second Laurits almost believed him. 

“So you... called down lightning?” Laurits tried - he tried so damn hard - to keep his voice neutral and pleasant, but by the way Magne’s face dropped, he knew it sounded as disbelieving as he felt. 

“You don’t believe me.”

“No Magne - I just… I just don’t understand.” 

Magne didn’t reply and Laurits shook his head again, moving over to Vidar and roughly searching for a pulse. There was a moment when Lautris was sure he was dead, but there it was. Weak and fluttering, but it was there. This time his sigh was one of relief. Dealing with VIdar Jutul’s corpse might have been a step too far, even for him. Laurits pulled out his phone.

“Who are you calling?” Magne’s face was unreadable, but had definitely gone a few shades paler.

“The ambulance, the police, I don’t know Magne. Vidar might be an asshole, but he’s an alive one, so… let's try and keep him that way.”

“Ran and Saxa will come for revenge - you should leave.”

“Probably, that whole family’s really fucking weird.”

“I’m being serious.”

“So am I”

“And now then what?” 

“And now you keep your mouth shut whilst I explain what happened to the police and maybe I can get you out of this and off an attempted murder charge.” 

Silence. And then-

“Why are you wearing a dress?”

“Really? I’m saving your ass and you’re questioning my fashion choices? Unbelievable.” 

_______________

Two days, five interviews and three sleepless nights later, Lautris was standing outside the Spar shop, watching the old woman inside serving customers from behind her desk. He knew full well how much of a stalker he looked like. 

Two days. 

It had taken two days for Laurits to convince the police that Vidar had been struck by a freak lightning strike and that Magne had played no part in it. Two days of Gry dodging his calls and texts about what had really taken place that day in the warehouse. Two days to wring Magne’s ‘truth’ out of him - that he believed he had inherited Thor’s powers and that the Jutuls were damned _giants_ of all things. And that the old woman in the Spar shop had started it all. 

The last customer left the store as Laurits checked his phone. 7:56 - with four minutes until the Spar closed and no one else in sight, Laurits slipped his hood up and stepped inside, not even bothering to pretend he was browsing, and stalked to the counter. The woman shot him an unreadable glance, which Laurits pointedly ignored. 

“What can I do for you?” 

“Well for a start, you can leave my fucking family alone.”

The woman’s gaze sharpened as Laurits planted a hand on the counter and leaned forward.

“I don’t know what you think you told Magne, but for now on, you stay _the hell_ away from him.”

“Magne?”

“Yes, Magne. My brother who, by the way, I just spent two days getting off an _attempted murder_ charge, all because you told him he was some kind of god!” Laurits was practically yelling now and he forced himself to take a mental step back. _Calm down Laurits. Cool it._

But the woman only grabbed the hand that was on the counter and Laurits forced down a wince at the sheer strength of her grip. This time, it was the woman who leaned in close as Laurits recoiled.

“Do you feel it, son of Fárbauti? Do you feel the anger? Do you hear the song of the wolves, of the serpents? Does the pull of the wild sing to your blood at night?” 

Laurits ripped himself free, shoving his hand deep into his pocket to hide the slight trembling there. 

“You,” he snapped, “Are insane. Stay away from me and from Magne.”

The knowing, satisfied gleam in her eyes sent Laurits teeth on edge, but he forced on his trademark smirk nonetheless. 

“Goodnight.” 

And with that, he swept out with all the dignity that he could muster, slamming the door so hard that the glass trembled behind him.

_______________

Even though he was determined to forget them, her words were still spinning wildly around Laurits’ mind hours later as he glared into the darkness of his room. He knew it was well past midnight, but sleep was still stubbornly evading him, mind frantically whirling. It was that damned woman’s fault and if he cared to analyse why, Laurits knew the words struck a cord deep inside of him. Like some jigsaw piece slotting into place. The exact same feeling he had gotten in that weird dance with a Jutuls weeks ago. 

Which was a decidedly unhelpful thought, as Laurits had come to that conclusion at least twenty times in the past few hours. If not more. _Which is stupid,_ Laurits thought, _because she can’t have known that - just ignore it. She’s just some batshit lady trying to get into your head like she did with Magne’s._ And it had evidently worked, seeing how hung up on this he was. 

The knock on his door made him jump out of his skin and he cursed silently. Magne. The knock was so heavy it could only be him. Laurits stayed silent, hoping his brother would leave. He was not in the mood to be discussing gods and giants with Magne. There was another knock and then -

“Laurits, I know you’re awake.”

Another silence so long that Laurits thought Magne had finally left until a third knock thudded almost painfully loud, amplified by the darkness.

“Laurits, open the damn door.”

_Fucking hell he was persistent._

“Go away Magne.”

“I know you went to see the woman at the Spar today too.”

Again Laurits swore, this time not bothering to keep it under his breath. He didn’t know or care how Magne found that out, but opened his door a crack regardless. 

“Why.” 

It wasn’t a question.

“Because I don’t trust her and because I needed to talk to her.”

“About what?”

“Goodnight Magne.” He made to close the door.

Instead of taking the hint, Magne shoved his foot in the doorway and Laurits glared.

“If your suspense can’t wait until morning, I had a friendly chat about leaving this family the hell alone.”

“And what did she tell you that’s got you so rattled?”

“How did you-” Laurits broke off before he could give away anything else. 

“Because you didn’t make a single comment about that hideous outfit the news anchor was wearing tonight.”

Laurits eyed his brother and opened the door wider, wondering what the hell he was doing.

“She didn’t tell me I was a god if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“That’s _not_ what I’m thinking.” 

There was another silence, but Magne just looked so damn expectant that Laurits finally caved.

“She rattled off some nonsense about the son of Fárbauti and the call of the wild or whatever. Now let me go to bed you asshole.” Laurits was _definitely not_ about to admit that he could remember exactly what she’d said word for word. 

“Can I come in?”

For a second, Laurits debated slamming the door in his face, but maybe he just wanted someone to talk to, or maybe he was a little freaked out, but he just muttered a ‘what the hell’ and stepped back, flicking on the light switch as he did so. Sitting heavily on the bed, Laurits realized just how tired he was. Magne pinned him down with that intense stare again. It didn’t help Laurits’ mood.

“What?” he snapped.

Magne blinked. “I called you Loki that day at the warehouse.”

“Yeah. Yeah you did. But that was because you’d just been struck by lightning and were half out of your mind with shock.” He almost moved his hand to remind Magne of the bruises he’d given Laurits, but that would mean explaining how they’d remarkably healed over mere hours after the incident. 

“And the old woman called you the son of Fárbauti. That’s Loki’s father.” 

Again, that feeling of something clicking into place. 

“Your point being?”

“Can you understand this?” 

This time, it was Laurits’ turn to blink. The dialect Magne spoke in was halting and broken, as if he hadn’t fully mastered the language, but Laurits found he could understand it perfectly. He discreetly pinched himself, but when nothing happened, the ball of cold in his chest began to spread throughout his body, clawing through his veins. Oh god. This was _real._ Whatever was written on Laurits’ face seemed to make even Magne pause. 

“I’ll start at the beginning.” 

Laurits nodded vaguely, running a hand through his hair. 

So Magne told him everything. From throwing the hammer for the first time and understanding the shifting weather around him to staring into the mirror at the Jutuls’ and finding the thing that stared back was… different. Changed. Still him, but wilder, older. Magne plowed through, hardly seeming to pause for breath and diligently ignoring the disbelieving snorts from Laurits that grew less and less as he continued. 

“I’m still _me_ , it just feels like… another layer.”

“Right. A freakishly strong layer with all the powers of a literal Norse god.”

Magne gave a small smile. “Right.” 

The pair were silent for a long time, Laurits staring at the window where dawn was just brushing the mountains in gold. And he realised that he could indeed feel the wild calling him. He shook his head, rubbing his face and the feeling faded.

“This is way too much to take in at four am.” He mumbled, “So, at the warehouse, you were really telling the truth?” 

“All of it.”

“Wow. Wow, okay. Just… if I piss you off, don’t fry my brains.”

Magne grinned at him, “It’s a deal.”

“I should've left that crazy old lady alone.” He placed his head in his hands. “I feel like I’m going insane.”

“I know what that’s like - but it’s real, and it’s… just incredible when you accept it.” 

“I can’t believe I’m really asking this, but at the warehouse, when you were still, you know,” he still felt stupid talking about it, “ - who did you see when you looked at me?”

“Tall, revoltingly red hair, pointy face and that insufferable smirk you always wear - it was Loki. I just knew, you know.”

“Loki…” Laurits mumbled like he was testing the word out, and still some part of him lashed out at how _right_ it felt. Loki; who he was. Who he always has been. A trickster. A lair. The silver-tongue. And the realisation just fit so wholly and completely that Laurits wondered how he’d not figured it out sooner. Again he shook his head. “Magne, get out of my room, I need to think - and I need a cold shower.” 

His brother opened his mouth like he was about to speak, but seemed to think the better of it and instead reached forward and clasped Laurits in a massive bear hug. His brother gave a squeak and whacked him on the back a few times before returning the hug, resigned to his fate. Magne let go with the biggest gin Laurits had ever seen and crept out the door, leaving Laurits to wrestle with his own smile, He fell back, rubbing his face again.

Loki, huh. Laurits had a sudden insight that this was either gonna be a hell of a lot of fun or an absolute fucking nightmare.


	2. Part Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Magne and Laurits head up the mountain to try to discover what exactly Laurits has been given by Loki

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys so much for the response to the first chapter, it was amazing!

“Come on Laurits! Jump!”

Laurits just stared flatly at Magne from where he stood on top of the rocky outcrop, Magne lingering below, beckoning enthusiastically. Since Laurits’ ‘epiphany’ that he was Loki - or at least that was how Magne was so eloquently putting it - his brother had been bugging him to test out the limit of his powers for days on end _.  _ And despite the fact that Laurits had just about come to terms with the realisation, this did  _ not  _ mean he was ready to start jumping off available cliffs to test out his ‘healing and strength’. 

Laurits was really starting to regret opening up. 

“ _ Absolutely _ not!”

“It’ll be  _ fine!  _ I jumped and I’m alright.” 

That at least was true. Magne  _ had _ jumped a solid fifteen feet down the cliff face and had emerged unharmed, but this did not mean Laurits had the same confidence in his own abilities. 

“Magne, I’ll  _ die  _ if I jump.”

“No you won't!”

Magne’s relentless optimism had really started to grate on Laurits’ nerves. 

“Fuck sake,” he muttered, swinging his legs round to dangle off the ledge. He’d really been woken up at five in the morning for  _ this?  _ But, even if he hated to admit it, Magne was right. Laurits did need to find the extent of whatever powers he’d been given before the Jutuls put two and two together and realised that it was Magne who’d been responsible for Vidars condition in hospital. If they hadn’t already.

Saxa and Ran had been absent from school for the past week and although Gry had been coming to classes, Fjor was still nowhere to be seen. Gry was  _ still _ avoiding his texts and when he tried to approach her at school, she’d all but vanished. So no answers there then.

Laurits bit his tongue as he peered over the edge, sucking in a breath.  _ Come on, Magne did it. Are you really going to let him beat you at this? Don’t be such a coward. _ Laurits hovered on the edge for a moment, screwing up his face.  _ Well, here goes nothing.  _ He shoved himself forward, the sickening feeling of falling for too long gripping his stomach as he plummeted, the wind howling in his ears, tugging at his clothes, Laurits opened his mouth to yell, to scream maybe, to -

THUD.

He slammed into the ground with a bark of pain. 

“JESUS! My ankle!” Laurits gripped his foot with white-knuckled fingers, hissing in pain as Magne rushed over, face as pale as Laurits’ felt. 

“Oh my gods, Laurits, are you okay?”

“What,” he gasped, “do you think?!” 

Magne just winced and examined his brother. “It doesn’t look… too bad…”

“ _ Really?”  _

“I mean, I normally heal really quickly - I’m sure it’ll be fine in an hour or two!” 

“Yes, but you also jumped fifteen  _ fucking  _ feet without a scratch.” He could believe this. He’d let himself jump off a  _ cliff  _ and now he was hurt. And stuck halfway up a mountain. Oh, this was bad, this was really bad. The fury that slipped through Laurits was more a result at his utter stupidity than at Magne, but he didn’t bother keeping his voice down as he growled:

“Well this is fucking brilliant.”

“Woah.”

“What?” Laurits’ snapped, not in the mood to be lectured about keeping his voice down, but Magne’s expression held nothing but shock.

“Your eyes, they… they changed.”

Laurits blinked, anger draining out of him as quickly as it had come on, “Changed? Like, how?”

Magne shook his head, “They like, changed colour for a second? I don’t know - it must have just been my imagination.” 

“Maybe…” But with the week he’d had, Laurits wasn’t about to rule anything out. There was a beat of uncomfortable silence before Magne offered a hand that Laurits gratefully grabbed as he stood. Gingerly, he put down his injured foot, but let out a bark of laughter when it landed without a single twinge of pain. 

“Damn,” he muttered to Magne, who grinned, “I guess you were right.”

“Well we can put healing on the list then. Um, let's do some running next then.”

And Magne bolted up the mountain without a second thought, leaving his brother in his dust. Laurits just blinked - he had no idea that Magne could move so fast,  _ although,  _ he thought,  _ I guess that’s sort of the point _ . Oh he  _ hated  _ running. But then again, Laurits had just jumped off a cliff just to prove a point, so he wasn’t going to be outdone just yet. 

He took off, cursing the lack of a path as he jumped rocks and dodged trees, expecting the breath to start burning in his lungs any second. But the farther and faster he pushed himself, Laurits realised that those limitations had just… vanished. Brambles grasped for his ankles, the forest faded into a viridescent blur as his focus narrowed onto the back of Magne’s head that was rapidly approaching. 

Hell, running this fast was pure exhilaration, so much so that Laurits didn’t notice how Magne had stopped dead in his tracks until Laurits all but slammed into him. Laurits stared at his brother, eyes wild and hair even more so. 

“Fucking hell Magne. That was  _ brilliant. _ ” 

Magne grinned back. “Healing and speed then. At least we know what Loki  _ can  _ do.”

But at the mention of Loki’s name, Laurits snapped down the mask of seriousness once again, taking a step away from his brother. He stared ahead at the windswept peak of the mountain and rubbed his face.

“Um, Magne? We need to talk about that.” 

His brother glanced at him and Laurits watched as Magne registered the almost urgent look on his face. 

“What is it?”

Laurits wasn’t about to admit that he’d spent the last three nights solidly researching Norse mythology and that in that time, one fact had become almost painfully apparent to him. So instead he just settled with:

“Aren’t Thor and Loki like… mortal enemies. Or something.” 

“Oh. That.”

“Like, don’t get me wrong, I’m not going to start throwing knives at your face and you’re hopefully not going to start chucking lightning at me, but… Loki does side with the giants at Ragnarok.”

There was a few seconds of unreadable silence before Magne finally spoke. “I mean, they weren’t always enemies. Before… you know,” Magne tactfully skipped over the part where Loki murdered Thor’s brother and then was tied to a rock under a snake with some morally questionable rope as punishment. “I mean, they were almost friends.”

“Almost.”

“Yeah, but Laurits,  _ they aren’t us. _ We’re our own people with our own destinies - you’ve spent your whole life not listening to what other people tell you to do… are you really going to start now?”

Laurits blinked. He… hadn’t thought about that. He’d assumed that what was written in the Norse myths were set in stone, but… 

“Huh, you’re right,” he muttered.

“What was that?”

“I said that you’re right, you oaf,” Laurits made to go and shove Magne, but it was like pushing at a brick wall. Laurits grinned regardless, and backed away towards the peak of the mountain. God, with that realisation off his chest, he felt almost  _ light _ . 

He could get used to this. 

“Race you to the top!” He turned and spirited away, too late hearing Magne’s cry of ‘No! Wait!’ There was a cracking noise in the ground beneath him. It was the type of noise that you felt deep in your chest rather than heard so Laurits didn’t realise the ground beneath him had collapsed until he was plummeting down the crevasse. There was a scream that might have been him and might have been Magne.

_ Oh shit oh shitohshitohshitohshit.  _ He was going to die, he was  _ going to die.  _ Laurits gave a yell, squeezing his eyes shut as his whole body tensed. And then, like his panic and terror had ripped through an invisible veil, there was a flash of golden light, a stab of agony, and then he was… floating? 

No, Laurits realised with no small amount of wonder, he was flying. Giving a few experimental flaps of his new wings, he drifted back up, heart still pounding. He was a bird. What the actual fuck was going on. He was a  _ bird.  _

“Laurits?” Magne’s voice was beside him as he settled on the ground. “Is… that you?

Laurits ignored his brother as he summoned every bit of that pain and dread that had torn through his veins and brandished it like a weapon as he used it to punch through that inner veil. Another excruciating flash of pain ripped through him as bones and blood shifted back into a human, trembling and panting on all fours.

He stared at Magne, trying to find words that would adequately sum up exactly what he was thinking. 

“Holy shit.” Was what he helpfully landed on. Next to him, Magne snapped his fingers in what could only be described as glee.

“Shapeshifting! That’s what Loki has! That must be why I saw your eyes change earlier.”

“Yeah, well, it really fucking hurts.”

Any fascination Laurits might have felt at this discovery was stripped away by the memory of falling. There was another silence, this time Laurits staring determinedly at his index finger. Slowly, so slowly, the skin of his fingers hardened and curved, leaving a handful of claws so sharp they were basically the equivalent of stanley knives. The pain was less this time and Laurits realised just how delicate he’d have to be to shapeshift without that god awful feeling that his bones were breaking, that his organs were twisting in half.  _ I’ve got to be so much more careful when I’m literally changing my whole genetic makeup.  _

Magne leaned over as the claws shifted back into fingers. “That,” he muttered, “is  _ so cool. _ ”

And despite himself, Laurits grinned. “Yeah, it really is.”


	3. Part Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fjor, Gry, Magne and Laurits regroup, but naturally tensions are running high in the group. Or, the group has one brain cell and Gry isn't sharing it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want some more context to this chapter, check out the other one in this series for what Gry & Fjor have been doing in the meantime. Alright, self promo over, enjoy!

Laurits clenched his teeth as he and Magne watched Gry duck out of sight behind the school lockers, avoiding them exactly as she had been doing for the last week. Ever since the incident at the warehouse, she’d been dodging every single one of Laurits’ texts and calls, despite the fact that he  _ knew  _ that she knew where Fjor was. With Vidar still in hospital and Ran and Saxa apparently vanishing, trying to ignore the situation was probably the worst thing Gry could possibly do.

It was getting a bit ridiculous. 

Laurits glanced at Magne who was looking just as miserable as Gry as he gazed at the spot where she had been. 

“Hey,” he murmured, punching Magne’s arm, “leave it to me okay?” 

“What’re you gonna do?”

“Just leave it to me.”   
Magne opened his mouth as if to push further, but was cut off by the shrill ringing of the school bell, summoning them to class. Laurits slipped off to maths before Magne could protest. 

Gry was in the classroom as he arrived, although again she refused to meet his eye. As he strolled passed her desk, Laurits stumbled, grabbing her desk as if to catch himself before sliding her phone off the desk and into his pocket.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, and made his way to his seat, trying not to look too smug with himself in the process.

____________________

The next bell found the class full of students shoving books into their bags as they jostled out of the room. Out of the corner of his eye, Laurits watched Gry fumble in her bag and pockets, expression getting more and more panicked as she searched.

In a matter of seconds, they were the only students left in the room, Laurits pretending to puzzle over the last few questions in the textbook and Gry still desperately looking for her phone. Their teacher raised an eyebrow to which Gry responded with a strained smile. 

“I’ll just be a minute - I’ve lost something.”

He nodded and made to exit the room. “Don’t be too long.”

The moment that he vanished around the doorway, Laurits stood, pushing the door shut with a soft  _ click  _ and ignoring Gry staring at him through narrowed eyes. He silently handed her phone over and she snatched it from his fingers, anger darkening her features. 

“Looking for this?”

“Laurits, what the  _ hell-” _

“So. Fjor, huh.”

Gry suddenly went very still and very quiet. “I don’t know what you mean.” 

“Cut the crap Gry. I  _ saw _ you with Fjor in the car when you were running from the warehouse. So maybe stop lying and tell me where you’re hiding him.” 

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” Gry shook her head and moved toward the door. Laurits stepped forward, blocking her way as she shot him such a ferocious glare that he was almost taken back. 

“Listen to me. I know what  _ really  _ went down and you do too. Ran and Saxa aren’t going to be keeping that low profile for long - we can help each other.” 

Gry sat back down in her chair, ferocity gone and suddenly looking exhausted. 

“This is crazy,” she muttered under her breath before looking almost despairingly at Laurits.  _ Oh god.  _ He was  _ not  _ prepared for whatever breakdown Gry was on the verge of. Mercifully though, Gry just shook her head. 

“Can we please not do this now? Just - look, there’s a cabin in the woods about forty-five minutes walk out of the town if you follow the East Ridge. If you come there after school, we can talk.” 

Laurits nodded and moved out of her way, but she paused before leaving the room. “Oh, and Laurits? I don’t know if bringing Magne is the best idea - him and Fjor didn’t exactly get on the last time they saw each other.”

“Sure.”

____________________

“I’m bringing my hammer.”

“No you’re not.”

“Yes I am!”

Laurits fixed Magne with a glare, wondering if it was too late to  _ uninvite  _ his brother. Maybe Gry had some sense after all.

“ _ No,  _ you’re not. We want to  _ avoid  _ killing the only other person in town with a non-human side who also, you know, isn’t out for your blood.” 

“But he was going to hurt Gry! What if he attacks one of us again?” Magne’s voice was insistent. 

“I think if he’s managed to hold off murdering her for a whole week, we’ll be fine.”

But Magne still looked unconvinced and Laurits sighed.

“Look, we’re trying to avoid a fight. If you go lumbering about with a big, fuck-off hammer, even I wouldn’t blame Fjor if he decided to attack you.”

There was a silence, before -

“Fine,” Magne ground out and Laurits decided that he’d never heard a word said with more reluctance. 

“Just don’t say anything stupid.” 

“That goes for you too.” 

Laurits but back a sharp retort and settled instead with a glare which Magne just raised an eyebrow with. 

They had been walking along the wooded mountain ridge for about an hour and the sun was starting to sink below the trees, casting long shadows on the pair, but still there was no sign of the cabin. Laurits was just starting to suspect that Gry had sent them on a wild goose chase when a glowing yellow light ahead made them pause. 

The pair approached the squat wooden cabin cautiously. The curtains were tightly drawn in the windows and if it wasn’t for the white suv parked on the dirt driveway, Laurits would’ve assumed that it was abandoned. 

“So what do you think?” Magne asked.

“I think it looks like a place where teenagers go to get stabbed.”

“ _ Laurits. _ ”

Laurits grinned, “Look, I’ll do the talking. You just hang back and try not to look too menacing. It’ll be fine.”

Laurits knocked sharply on the door, trying to tell himself that the shivers running down his spine were the result of the ridiculous cold up on this god-forsaken mountain. A curtain by the doorway twitched back momentarily before the hurried sounds of multiple locks being opened filtered through the wood. Eventually the door slid open and Gry’s face peered around. 

“I thought I said not to bring Magne,” she hissed.

“Yeah? He’s as much a part of this as you are.”

For a split second, Gry looked like she had half a mind to slam the door in their faces and send them away. Laurits tried for a smile. 

“It’s not like we can just leave him out here.” 

Gry considered this. “ _ Fine.  _ But Fjor  _ isn’t _ going to be happy to see him.”

She vanished inside as the two brothers glanced at each other. Laurits was the first to follow Gry, grateful for the warmth of the cabin after walking up the mountain in the dark for the last hour. Inside was a cozy seating area that seemed to take up most of the building, complete with a stone fireplace and a scarlet rug tossed on the floor. It looked almost…  _ homely?  _ A far cry at least from the Jutuls’ manor that was full of harsh light and modern designs. Fjor himself was perched on one of the sofas and Laurits tried to crush that stupid kernal of jealously he felt at Gry sitting so close to him.

_ Jesus Christ Laurits, pull yourself together.  _ Fortunately at that moment, Magne strode into the room, causing Fjor to violently stand up. Though his face was as carefully impassive, Laurits could detect a hard glint in his eye.

“Magne.” Fjor ground out.

“Fjor.” 

There was a long, drawn-out silence at that, both Fjor and Magne trying to stare each other down. Finally Laurits sighed, rolled his eyes, and shoved Magne in the direction of an armchair. 

“Fucking hell, can both of you relax? We’re not here to murder eachother.” 

Gry winced at little at the word murder but at this point Laurits was just so done that he honestly didn’t care. Reluctantly, Magne sat, still not breaking eye contact with Fjor. 

“Are you okay Gry?” Magne asked finally.

“I’m fine.”

“Fjor not tried to kill you again?”

“Magne!” Laurits snapped, but was cut off by Fjor as he stepped forward.

“That was a mistake.”

“A pretty fucking big one if you ask me.”

“You have  _ no idea  _ how hard it is to live with my family. You know what options they gave me? Either I could kill Gry or Saxa could. And believe me, Saxa wouldn’t be quick about it.” 

“That doesn’t make it right!” Magne exploded, jumping up again. Laurits put his head in his hands.  _ This was not going to go well.  _ But it was now Gry who stepped in, surprising even Laurits with her forcefulness. She almost looked like she was going to slap both of them.

“Would both of you shut up! I’m not some kind damsel in distress for you to save!” 

And perhaps even more surprising, both Magne and Fjor looked chastened. They slowly sat, staring hard at the rug as Gry took a deep breath, steadying herself.

“And since for some reason Laurits seems to be the only one here with any sense, I’ll let him start.” 

Laurits blinked in surprise, but stood anyway. “So. Fjor and Magne have majorly pissed off the Jutuls, and considering they’re probably not going to let attempted murder and betrayal slide, I thought we’d better come together and think of some kind of plan.”

Laurits almost mentioned the small fact that he was now the reincarnation of Loki but held his tongue. What was the point in holding all the cards when you didn’t have the best ones?

“Laurits is right,” Fjor nodded, “Ran and Saxa are probably hunting us - me - right now.”

“Do they know about this cabin?”

“Do you think I’d be stupid enough to bring Gry here if they did?”

“Well, no offence Fjor, but subtlety isn’t exactly your middle name.” 

Fjor’s eyes darkened and Laurits shoved back regret, ploughing right on.  _ Goddammit why was it so hard to be snarky around him?  _

“Anyway, the way I see it is that we have two options: either we run for the hills or we stand and fight. Personally, I vote for option number one considering there's no way in Hel we can win.”

But unfortunately Magne seemed to be over his guilt at threatening Fjor as he stood and bellowed, “I say we fight! I can take Ran and Saxa - and who knows what else they’ll do to Edda if we flee?”

“Magne,  _ no _ , you could barely take on Vidar without half killing yourself.” 

Reluctance etched into every line of his body, Fjor also stood, “Maybe Magne can’t take them on his own, but both of us together have a chance.” 

“You realise this means we’ll have a life expectancy of like next week, tops.” 

Laurits was ignored. 

“We could storm your house.”

“ _ Old  _ house,” Fjor corrected, but this time there was no hostility in his voice. Magne was nodding enthusiastically and Laurits could only stare. 

“ _ No.  _ This is a terrible idea!” 

Again, he was ignored and Laurits glanced at Gry helplessly but she was evidently lost in thought, staring hard at the rug. 

“Wait,” she suddenly spoke up, interrupting Magne and Fjor’s ‘planning’, “what if there was a third option? What if  _ we _ drove them out of town.”

There was a pause in the room.

“Huh. That could actually work,” Laurits murmured.  _ Why didn’t I think of that?  _ “But won’t they just set up shop somewhere else?”

Gry’s answering grin was wicked, and expression Laurits hadn’t realised she could make. But he guessed a week of giants and gods would do that to anyone. 

“Not if we frighten them enough.” 

Laurits’ mind spun - now this was a possibility he could get behind. After all, causing chaos was basically a talent of his. But to cause said chaos, they would need to get close to Ran and Saxa and that was absolutely not a possibility. Not only would it be too dangerous, but the Jutuls were sure to be on high alert - there’s no way that their mismatched little gang would get within a mile of them. Unless… unless… unless that mismatched little gang had someone who could shapeshift as easily as breathing.  _ Could he do it?  _ In theory at least Laurits reckoned yes, yes he could. But there was a big difference between theory and reality. So far, Laurits had only practiced with small things, hair colour, nose shape, eye colour as well as the occasional small animal, but never an entire person. But he wondered…

Laurits focused harder than he had ever done in his life on Saxa. High cheekbones, hair that was so blond that it was almost white, a slight build and a slim nose. But more than that - the way she held herself proudly, the lines that appeared in her skin when she smiled, how -

A sudden flash of pain and then - 

“What. The fuck.” 

Laurits opened his eyes at Fjor’s voice, grinned, took a step and almost immediately flat on his face. Oh. Oh wow. Saxa was tall and he was not used to this body at all. Laurits-as-Saxa slowly, painfully, stood, admiring perfectly shaped nails and thin-boned hands. 

“How do I look?” The voice that left his mouth was not his at all. Shapeshifting was  _ awesome.  _ But the elation swiftly faded as Fjor took a threatening step towards him, slamming Laurits so hard against the cabin wall that his teeth rattled. 

_ “Saxa.” _ he hissed and Laurits panicked at the rage in Fjor’s eyes, punching through that inner veil to change back so fast that he didn’t stop to consider the fact that without a measure of care, it would  _ hurt.  _ Laurits cried out as bones and blood shifted crudely into his proper body, and would’ve collapsed if it wasn’t for Fjor roughly holding him upright. Black spots swam in his vision as he got his breathing under control and shoved Fjor off. Vulnerability was not a good look on him. Vulnerability meant weakness and weakness meant that just about anyone could take advantage of you. So it would be really helpful if his hands would stop shaking.

“ _ Fuck _ .” Laurits muttered, refusing to meet Magne’s concerned gaze.

“What the hell was that?” Gry demanded, pushing forward.

“That was shapeshifting. Just one of the many bonuses of being Loki. As long as you do it right at least.”

“You mean - you’re - you’re one of  _ them?” _

Gry looked so utterly shocked that despite himself, Laurits almost laughed. 

“Yeah.”

Fjor’s expression was much more guarded, “Anything else we should know, Laurits?”

“That’s pretty much it.” 

“And who’s side are you on? Because I distinctly remember Loki fighting with us, the giants at Ragnarok.”

That sucked the air out of the room, replacing it with an unshakable chill. Though Laurits and Magne had had this exact conversation a week ago, he was suddenly at a loss for words, a sensation he wasn’t used to.

“I…”

“Laurits isn’t going to do that. I would trust him to the ends of the earth.” Magne spoke up and his voice was so frank and honest that Laurits had never been more grateful for his brother. 

“I’m  _ not  _ going to join your insane family Fjor because they messed with mine. Tried to kill Mange actually. Several times. And no one is allowed to mess with my family but me.”

That seemed to satisfy Gry at least who was about to sit back down when  _ it  _ happened. 

A knock at the door.

“They’ve found us,” Fjor said simply. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! As always, comments always make my day! <3


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